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Author: Uncle.Budd
Uncle Budd here—born and slightly raised in Alliance, Ohio (the Carnation City, not the flower shop).
I left town years ago thinking I was off to find myself... turns out, I was right here all along—probably hiding behind a pallet of clearance toasters.
I’ve been through it, folks. I was an addict. Got clean. Then I relapsed. I died once—actually died—but the Good Lord and a second chance had other plans. I’ve slept under bridges, behind dumpsters, and on more couches than I can count. Even when I wasn’t doing drugs, I was usually doing something to numb the pain—usually involving a bottle.
But there were two four-legged reasons I kept breathing: my dogs, Miss CHIFF and her son Voorhees. Miss CHIFF didn’t just steal my heart—she saved my life when I was in a dark, hopeless place. And when I almost lost her and Voorhees, I nearly gave up for good. But instead, I stood up, wiped the tears, threw a punch back at life, and fought like hell—not just for their lives, but for mine too.
Now I’m back in my hometown, not just to heal up from life’s uppercuts, but to be part of the healing—for this community I love.
Half of my personal profits from Uncle Budd’s Bargains go straight into The Broken Crayons, helping folks wrestling with addiction, mental health, and just plain hard times.
I don’t just sling deals—I sling hope.
One cart full of unclaimed treasure, shelf-pull weirdness, and “why does this exist?” wonders at a time.
Uncle Budd's Bargains >>
Author: Uncle.Budd
Uncle Budd here—born and slightly raised in Alliance, Ohio (the Carnation City, not the flower shop).
I left town years ago thinking I was off to find myself... turns out, I was right here all along—probably hiding behind a pallet of clearance toasters.
I’ve been through it, folks. I was an addict. Got clean. Then I relapsed. I died once—actually died—but the Good Lord and a second chance had other plans. I’ve slept under bridges, behind dumpsters, and on more couches than I can count. Even when I wasn’t doing drugs, I was usually doing something to numb the pain—usually involving a bottle.
But there were two four-legged reasons I kept breathing: my dogs, Miss CHIFF and her son Voorhees. Miss CHIFF didn’t just steal my heart—she saved my life when I was in a dark, hopeless place. And when I almost lost her and Voorhees, I nearly gave up for good. But instead, I stood up, wiped the tears, threw a punch back at life, and fought like hell—not just for their lives, but for mine too.
Now I’m back in my hometown, not just to heal up from life’s uppercuts, but to be part of the healing—for this community I love.
Half of my personal profits from Uncle Budd’s Bargains go straight into The Broken Crayons, helping folks wrestling with addiction, mental health, and just plain hard times.
I don’t just sling deals—I sling hope.
One cart full of unclaimed treasure, shelf-pull weirdness, and “why does this exist?” wonders at a time.